


This Is The Beat Of My Heart

by lyssawolf



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:26:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3239660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyssawolf/pseuds/lyssawolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a shy college boy who's secret past time is singing on Youtube. Louis is the unemployed and often depressed writer who's secret past time is watching videos of a boy singing on Youtube. Somehow they manage to become a team, and things just go downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is The Beat Of My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kinkystyles](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kinkystyles).



> Okay so this is unfinished and very short but I am planning to work on it I PROMISE. I'm working on another at the moment, also I have college and can barely find time to write right now.. but thanks for the interest some of you have taken-- I am grateful for the comments and kudos on such a shitty work haha. Anyway, check out the other if you'd like something longer and more worth your time. It'll be slow updating, but it'll be updated. This too from time to time probably.  
> Again, sorry if this wastes your time.  
> Title taken from This Is Gospel by Panic! At The Disco

The door slammed behind Harry as he rushed into his flat building, hurrying out of the downpour raging outside. The pitter patters of it still echoed through the vacant stairwell as he shook droplets from his hanging curls. He shuddered and pulled his long coat tighter around his body-- it was just as cold in here as it was out there. He clomped up the steps, staring diligently at his leather boots so he wouldn't slip or skip a step. He was prone to catching a toe on a stair and crashing down, causing nearby occupants to rush out in worry. With it being two in the morning, he didn't think eighty year old Mrs. Watson would take too kindly to being awoken by his pigeon-toes. 

He was huffing a bit when he reached the third floor, and he stuffed his hands into his coat pockets, feeling for the little key to unlock his flat. Panic flooded him when he found nothing, but digging desperately into his jeans pockets the fingers on his right hand touched cool metal teeth. He scrabbled the key out with a sigh and twisted it in the lock, opening the door. It would be just like him to almost lose his key. He'd have to be more careful in the future. 

He stepped in quickly and shut the door behind him. The lock clicked affirmatively in the silence, and Harry's shoulders drooped. It was so quiet here. He supposed if he wasn't so isolated he could find himself a flatmate but... that just took too much work, and his social anxiety wouldn't allow it. The only friend he had he'd left behind in Cheshire, and even that one had been a struggle to ring in. He shrugged and wandered over to his couch, flopping onto its deflated surface. He'd just keep waiting to see if someone came up to him first. Yet even that thought caused him to cringe. Perhaps the quiet was better after all. 

For a while he sat there, staring at a blank TV screen, thinking. Then he reached over to the end table and picked up a slim black laptop lying there. Opening it up and typing in his passcode, he realized he'd left Youtube open onto his channel. He refreshed the page and glanced at the subscriber number, holding his breath. 75,001. He'd gained a couple since this morning. Nervously, he clicked on his latest video and scrolled down to the comments, searching.

It only took a couple drags on the trackpad to reach the comment he was looking for. It was from LouWritesShit17, a user who made a point to comment something sweet on every single one of Harry's videos. Harry leaned in eagerly, examining this latest bit of wit from his favorite subscriber. 

_Listened to this while sat at home waiting out a bloody rainstorm. Think your voice made the sun come out. Massive thanks for that xx_

Harry felt a silly smile pull at the edges of his lips. He closed the laptop after reading a few others and dropped it back on the end table, then looked out his window. The rain had paused for the moment, and watery moonlight was forming a puddle of white on the dark blue carpet. 

"Same to you," he murmured to himself, still smiling, as he stood and headed into his kitchen, considering what he would make himself for a meal. 

\--

A little black line blinked tirelessly on top of a blank page on the screen. Louis watched it with interest. Sometimes it skipped a blink. At least, he thought so. Further experiments would prove his theory. He chuckled at his joke, then groaned. He leaned against the back of his chair and gazed longingly out the window at the moon peeking through the dark clouds. At this rate he'd never have the story finished by Tuesday like he'd promised. He looked back at the white emptiness, feeling a headache begin to stab itself into the spot just above his eyebrow. He rubbed it subconsciously, trying to understand why writer's block had hit him so hard this week. Perhaps it was due to his obsession with Youtuber SingStyles. 

But that couldn't be it, he reasoned to himself, because that was only a guilty pleasure he partook in... once a day, if not twice. He grimaced. It's not like the videos were all that special. It was just a boy singing, and you couldn't even see his face due to the fact that the boy always filmed himself as a silhouette. Yet that voice... Louis closed his eyes, still rubbing the spot as he imagined what the boy would look like in person. It was obvious he had a head full of curls, though the color of them was a mystery. Louis liked to imagine that they were a warm caramel, with gold highlights only noticeable when sunlight graced them. His eyes would be... hopefully blue. Louis found he had a thing for blue eyes. Though in all honesty he should be tired of them, considering he stared at them every morning in the mirror.

He sighed heavily and sunk further down into his desk chair. Suddenly a terrible exhaustion had gripped him, and he found it difficult to keep his mind on track. He began drifting into a dream, a dream of bright blue eyes and light brown curls, singing him softly to sleep. The room filled with the sound of quiet snores, and the forgotten computer screen went black.


End file.
